


i know there's nothing left to cling to but i'm still calling out your name

by writingwords



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, ben blushes easily, lots of yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:33:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24659170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingwords/pseuds/writingwords
Summary: Ben's just trying to get a grip on things.Set the night before Whitney and Callum's wedding.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell, Whitney Dean/Callum "Halfway" Highway
Comments: 16
Kudos: 54





	i know there's nothing left to cling to but i'm still calling out your name

Ben screws his eyes shut, getting lost in the hot kisses being littered all over his neck. Or at least he tries to. He honestly does.

But the blonde attached to him is clean shaven and he’s realised he has a thing for the burn that comes with having someone’s stubble against his throat. And down his chest. And between his legs.

His eyes fly open and he puts a palm on the guy’s chest.

“Sorry, mate,” He breathes out. The guy barely notices it and leans into his lips, but Ben twists his head and pushes him off. “This ain’t really working for me.”

As gracefully as he can, which isn’t a lot, he kicks the man out. He wonders if he can drink enough to completely pass out and not wake up until tomorrow is over.

He doesn’t get very far though because one moment he's debating whether it is bad etiquette to clear his mother’s fridge of booze and the next he is being choked by an angry redhead.

He manages to get out a “How can you still marry him?” without crying.

Part of him was desperate for this to happen. For Whitney to find out. But now that’s happened and Callum’s no closer to being his and that stings more. Knowing that he had the chance to walk away from the half-life he’d have with Whitney and he chose it anyway.

Ben’s suddenly glad he didn’t give himself away at the Arches. That he didn’t fall to Callum’s knees and beg him to choose _Ben_. Who knows how badly that would have gone?

Besides, he reminds himself, Callum’s made his choice. He’s chosen marrying a woman.

Ben tries not to take it personally as he lies in bed that night after tucking Lexi in. But it’s hard to be objective when there’s no nameless face lying next to you and not enough booze in your system.

He thinks about Callum. Well, no, that hurts too much. He thinks about himself. The him that was in the closet.

He remembers how it feels.

The suffocation. Like forgetting how to breathe because putting on a front becomes the priority. Being increasingly aware of how your insides churn at the push and pull going on under the surface. Gut twisting with want and self-loathing simultaneously since anything that feels good isn’t supposed to. Feeling good stops being an option when meeting everyone’s expectations is easier than hurting them with the truth. The truth that doesn’t even register as a truth because you’re so far gone in denial. The truth that digs at your skin, claws at your throat, leaves a bitter taste in your mouth when you even consider saying it out loud. Heart screaming out for one thing while the rest of your body rejects it.

The pit in his stomach isn’t fully gone. It makes itself known when someone has _that_ look or his dad makes a comment. The pit that used to burn with fear that he wouldn’t be able to convince everyone, convince himself, forever.

Ben can feel the pain down to his bones. His body aching because he knows Callum doesn’t deserve to feel like this. No one does. And Ben could have tried harder to help him. But Ben got stupid. Caught feelings. Like an idiot.

And suddenly it wasn’t as simple as helping the closet case. No, now there were lingering looks, secret touches, and messy emotions.

He sighs, feeling the weight of it all start to crush him. He digs his palms into his eyes. The flashes and stars seem to outline a face.

Ben groans out in frustration. Since when does he get hung up on a guy?

All he seems to do is think of Callum. And tomorrow Whitney will be telling him _I do_. And he’ll be saying it right back.

It takes all his strength not to cry at that. Even then he doesn’t manage it.

He tries to pinpoint exactly when he let Callum get under his skin. When this became something more than winding him up. When it became empathising with him. Became _feeling_ for him.

He wipes his tears with more force than necessary.

He looks to the ceiling and prays to a God that’s never been kind to him that it all goes away. All the emotions that have him falling over his feet like a lovesick teenager at the sight of stupid brown hair and stupid blue eyes and the stupid sound of a stupid voice.

But he knows, even now, that he doesn’t want that. Not really.

Not when he’s run his hands through that hair. And he’s looked into those eyes and seen himself staring right back. He’s heard that voice break and hold back sobs and ask him why doing things right feels lonely.

And Ben knows that he’d go right back if Callum would let him.

He doubts that will happen. “This, whatever’s happened before, it’s over.”

The words ring in his ear and surround him completely. _Over. Over. Over._ There’s a clenching in his ribs letting him know it won’t be over for him. Not for a long time.

He rolls onto his stomach and buries his head into his pillow. The bed is cold, and he regrets sending the man away now. And in that moment, as he sinks into a restless sleep, he feels more hopeless than he’s ever felt.

#

“What are you doing, you pillock?” He’s giggling, actually giggling at 24 years old.

“Carrying you over the threshold ain’t I?” He’s grinning and Ben thinks that it’s the best thing ever.

“We ain’t even married!”

“Right, well, if you’re gonna be like that,” He drops him on the bed with a grunt. Then he falls into the space next to him.

“I am never letting you get drunk again.” Ben can’t stop smiling as he says it.

“If it’s good enough for Shirley,” He slurs, turning to face him, “it’s good enough for me.”

“And I am definitely not letting you drink with her again.” He mirrors his boyfriend’s position. God, _boyfriend,_ he never thought he’d have one of those again.

His hand comes to Ben’s cheek, thumb grazing his cheekbone before resting on the corner of his mouth. Ben turns a bit to kiss the pad of his finger and then brings a hand up to envelope his.

“Anyone ever tell you how sexy you are?”

“Shut up,” Ben mumbles. He hopes his face doesn’t burn up. The way he’s looking at him, though, Ben supposes he doesn’t need to go red for him to know exactly what effect he’s having on him.

“It’s true. You’re so sexy, Ben Mitchell.”

“Alright,” Ben rolls his eyes and lets go of his hand to half hide his face in the pillow. He feels him shuffle closer and gently place a kiss on his nose.

If Ben wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now.

Then he places one on his cheek, “So,” then his jaw, “fucking,” his neck, “sexy,” and finally on his lips.

It’s sweet and lingering, if a bit messy, and he can smell the vodka but he’s here and kissing him on his bed and he really can’t complain.

He starts tugging at his shirt, getting his hands where he can. Ben laughs and bats his hands away. “Babe, you’re far too pissed for that.” But they continue kissing until they’re both smiling into each other’s mouth.

Eventually, the exhaustion hits them, and they tangle into each other. Ben is irresistible, apparently, once there’s a bit of vodka inside you, so even when he turns in his arms, he can still feel sleepy kisses between his shoulder blades.

The last thing he hears is a soft, mumbled word that he’s been feeling for months.

Ben falls asleep smiling.

#

Ben wakes up in the dark. His eyes are burning because he forgot to take out his contacts.

He reaches for his phone and sits up. It’s nearing four in the morning. He’s had a series of drunk texts from Jay, and a selfie of Lola and Rainie.

Just as he’s about to chuck his phone down, he gets another text from Jay.

_shd clme bakk to the stag, dindt see yiu leaVe.! sned caljm off in sty le._

Ben chucks his phone down.

The bed is far too big for just him, he thinks as he turns in the sheets, trying to fall asleep again.

He can’t remember the dream that well. But he remembers arms around his waist and legs twisted in his and a head on his shoulder. He remembers someone.

He tries hard not to think of who exactly that someone could be when he knows how far from reality it is. The idea of that someone in bed with him.

Ben cries a bit more that night. Cries for himself. Cries for the lie Callum is putting himself through. Imagines it’ll be out his system by the morning.

That morning, as he pulls on the maroon suit, he realises with dread that it won’t ever be out of his system.

Because that is what love is. It gets given to you and taken away. Because people like Ben. They don’t deserve it.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from 'Always' by Gavin James which is what I was listening to when I wrote this at like 4am. Criticism is welcome, stay safe x


End file.
